Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
My nerve endings light up hearing him say that, pinpricks of pleasure dancing along my skin. It’s not a declaration of love, but it’s a declaration of want, and that’s more than I thought I would ever have from him. I still don’t know what to do with it. My instinct is to shut him up with my mouth, then push my dick so far inside him, he forgets anyone except us exists. But I’ve made one rash decision before when it came to having a bad night and sex with Swifts, and I don’t want to fuck up again. “Then why is this the first time I’ve gotten to taste you?”
He groans, like hearing those words lights him up from the inside the way they do me. “Because I was scared. I don’t know what it means or what I want, but I know I could never risk losing you. Even as a kid I understood that. My parents loved each other, but look at how they were. My dad gave her things to make her happy and to make up for the fact that he was never there. I was scared to fuck up with you, scared that my curiosity about how my best friend’s skin would feel beneath mine would make me lose you…or change us. Then things went to hell, and I knew I was leaving, that eventually I would go and you never would.”
“You’re still gonna go. That hasn’t changed.”
He looks away but doesn’t argue. When I grab his chin and turn his head so he’s facing me again, Morgan doesn’t stop me.
“You’re still gonna go,” I say again.
“I know. But I just…now I know what it’s like to lose you. I didn’t touch you, didn’t get to know what it felt like to have you, and I still lost you for ten fucking years. I guess the thought of that happening again, of never having you that way…I can’t shut it up now. A few days here and you’re already inside my head again.”
My heart thuds, bangs against my chest. My skin tingles, the pull inside my chest that I’ve always had with Morgan luring me closer. This time, I’m the one pressing my lips to his, the one with the key to make him open up for me. I taste him, suck his tongue, nibble his lip while the voice inside me begs for more, more, more.
Can I do this? Can I fuck Morgan, knowing I’m going to lose him? Knowing that it doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t feel, eventually he’ll leave Birchbark, and maybe he’ll ask me to go again, and maybe he won’t. And if he does, can I leave it all behind, my business, my house, and go?
I force myself to pull back. “Not tonight. I need to sit with this a while. I don’t even know what you want.”
“To keep feeling what I only feel when I’m with you.”
“Jesus, man. Come here.” I lie on my back and pull Morgan with me. He fits in my arm, head tucked into my armpit. I hear him breathe deeply, feel him get closer and root around there.
“This okay? I missed the scent of sugar maples and your skin.”
My cock takes notice, blood rushing to my groin, making me throb. It doesn’t escape my attention that while I was jerking off thinking about him, Morgan was apparently doing the same.
“Yeah, this is good.” Better than good.
Morgan breathes me in more, takes my scent into his lungs, burrows in as close as he can. His lips press against my pit, once, twice, and then his tongue sneaks out and tastes me there. A tremble runs the length of me.
“Sorry.” His voice is low, sleepy.
“Don’t be. I like it.” Too much. I already know I’ll give him anything and everything he wants, even if I get hurt, even when I know he’s going to walk away. I don’t have the strength to deny Morgan anything, and sure as shit not to deny him myself.
I raise my arm more, making it easier on him. I don’t know if this is a thing for him—scent and armpits—but I’m willing to let him make a buffet of mine, while hoping it’s just ours, that my heart won’t shatter when this ends.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Morgan
I wake up with the scent of Dusty all around me.
I’ve never been like this before—whatever the fuck this is—where I need to feel surrounded by another person’s smell and body heat and crave the feel of their touch against my skin, but that’s exactly how I feel right now with Dusty.
I don’t want to move, don’t want to leave this bed, because the world is a whole lot easier right here. Still, the back of my neck prickles, the hairs rising there. The neediness makes me feel weak, makes me fear what is going to happen when this blows up in my face.